Memoirs of a Wet Works Agent
by SWJY
Summary: Working with every spy is a wet works agent. The wet works agent does the dirty work. Ever wonder why there are so little guards everywhere? Thank the agents behind the scenes. Follow famous MI6 agent James Bond, and his infamous wet works agent in their attempt to stop the famous thief, Carmen Sandiego.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

When you think spy, you think of cool car chases, gun fights, and the slick spy who always gets the lady. But that's the only part the public gets to see. The other side, is one where no one should ever step foot in, the scenes of death, destruction, the screams of pain and begging of those to have mercy. That's my life, I've never experienced the thrill of being chased across a winding scenic highway, I've never experienced the pleasures if seducing the villains right hand woman, but I am a spy. I am the sweeper agent, the one who does the wet work. I am trained to kill or be killed. I do the dirty work for the spy, I clean up those who have seen the secrets of our work. What spies deal in information, I deal in death. I no longer have the innocence of a spy, nor that of an undercover agent, for I have been called the agent of death. My own agency fears me, knowing that if I leave, no one is safe. Who am I? I no longer know, I have been shaped by the traumas of my past, and old monikers that once were my name can no longer be applied. I was once agent 008, but that number has been stripped from me. I go by nothing now, and even the name that has been assigned to me is merely a camouflage for my job. My partner fears for me, commenting that I have fallen into a spiral of insanity. Little does he know, I have fallen into that path far before we even became partners. But I can never tell him that, for my past work has rendered my mute, but only to a point. I refuse to give away any information that might cause any bonding between us. I am someone you don't want to get close to. I am the Grey Agent, and if you fear, you fear me. You must of heard of me, no one hasn't. But don't worry, if you're not on my list, consider yourself safe, for now. But if you are, I will find you, and my bullet will be last thing you'll see. Be wary of me, for no barrier will stop me, not even death.


	2. Chapter 2

London, United Kingdom

Overcast skies signal the forthcoming of a possible thunderstorm. It's bad a weather, but it's something I have grown accustom to over the years. My partner is long gone, chasing down some stereotypical power hungry villain. He's left me with an insane amount work this down, having decided to have a fight right in the middle of town. It's a shame really, honest men and women who really had nothing to do with it. But no witnesses means no witnesses, so it's once again left to me to tie up loose ends. This man is the last of those poor witnesses, Bill Sherman, age 35, married, 2 kids. Nice man really, but sometimes, being at the wrong place at the wrong time leads to unexpected consequences. Like now for example, I personally have nothing against Mr. Sherman, but what's done needs to be done. I watch from the rooftop next to his, as he completes his daily routine, before kissing his kids and wife goodbye. A shame that it's his last. He takes the elevator down, that's my cue. Quickly, I run to the rooftop door, taking the stairs a flight at a time, I'm young, my knees can take this. By the time I'm out of the building, Sherman is out of sight. A rookie mistake yes, but he is MY mark. And I always find my mark. The phone in my pocket buzzes angrily, it's M, calling me to scold me like a mother scolding her child. I dread picking up phone calls like this, but if I don't it will only get worse. I ignore it this time, but I know I will regret this choice, but matters not, for I have spotted Mr. Sherman in the crowd. He's decided to walk to work today, a change in routine, a change he will regret. I cut my way through the crowd, weaving in and out of the human traffic, slowly but steadily following my mark. I suspect he is suspicious by now, for I have been following him for several minutes, he lives far from his work. He makes a sudden cut through an alleyway. I follow, slowly gaining in pace, and once again he makes a sudden turn at the end of the alley, glancing behind his shoulder. This is not new, all of my targets want to see a glimpse of their killer, but there is no defining feature to my face, I am generic, nothing special, thus I can camouflage. We continue in this pattern down several blocks, him trying to lose me, while I merely keep pace with him. All of a sudden he breaks out into a run, running into a dark alleyway. I slow down to a walk, there's no reason to rush the inevitable. Pulling out my gloves from my back pocket, I put them on, slowly pulling them on, before curling my fist to ensure the fit. I feel comfort in this, a routine I've done countless times. I pull out my gun, checking the chamber to make sure there is a bullet there. Finally I reach into my other pocket, grabbing the silencer. I don't attach just yet, and instead I walk into the alley, gun and silencer in hand.

"Don't move!"

Mr. Sherman is panicking now, sensing the end. I continue to walk towards him.

" I'm armed! I'm warning you!"

His voice has gone up a pitch, I'm nearing his position, and I can make the outline of him. Smart man, using the shadows to his advantage, that is until he moves into the light. He's hold a .22 revolver, small, good for a city like this. He holds it in both hands, legs spread apart.

"Don't come any closer. I'm warning."

I merely stare at him, an empty threat, he won't even have time to pull the hammer back. Slowly I screw the silencer on, taking my time, intimidating him, reminding him of what is to come. That is, until my phone rings. But this time, I can't ignore, as it's automatically connected to my earpiece. Damn Q and his overbearingness. They must be watching me instead of 007, someone like me doesn't mess up, ever. Putting a finger to my ear I need not answer the call.

"What in blazes took you so long?"

...

I merely glare at the security camera overhead. I must of missed it, another mistake. I am not on my A game today, or this week in that matter.

"Doesn't matter anymore, get rid of him and catch up to Bond. God knows how helpless he is without you."

With that the line goes dead. Classic M, she knows I refuse to answer, why use words when silence can be just as effective. All this time as the phone conversation has occured, poor Mr. Sherman has been standing there, his legs shaking so badly, he just might fall over any minute. I've already finished attaching the silencer, and I slowly lift gun. I watch as his grip tightens on his gun. He's crying now, poor man, probably has no idea on how to actually use the gun.

"Please don't hurt, I have a family." He whimpers, begging for mercy.

But I am merciless, and I merely continue to hold my gaze. He stares, and will not see compassion, I am ice, the ice queen incarnate, but I am no queen. A queen is powerful, pure, I am neither of those. Mr. Sherman slowly sinks to his knees, gun falling from his hands, tears flowing freely. The average human goes through 6 stages of grief, the last being acceptance. I assume he's arrived at that.

"Is it just me, or will you kill my family as well?"

I don't answer, one because I don't, and second, I don't know the answer to that question. Instead I lower my gun to his head, and cock my gun. This will be quick, no pain, unlike some of the others I've done.

I murmur, "Simply at the wrong place at the wrong time."

He looks up at that, he heard me, damn. His eyes are full of hope until a pull of the trigger. Bill Sherman dies with tears of hope and an unfulfilled life. He leaves behind a wife and two kids. A shame really, but a loose end is a loose end. The last thing he heard was the muffled zing of my gun. A quick death, deserving of the poor man. I detach the silencer, and shoot the camera, I hate being seen. Someone will report the gunshot, and the police will report it as a mugging, and it will be the end of the case. As for me, I have completed another sweep, one of the many I add to my ever growing list of accomplishments. But sweeps are nothing to be proud of, killing civilians is not a happy task, but in our line of work, no loose ends must be taken seriously. I am suddenly aware of the crispness of the air, and I realize how cold it is. Readjusting my scarf, I head off to extraction point, another wet work op needs completing, and until my dying breath, I will continue to do this forsaken dirty work. For who else would do it but for someone as corrupted as I am?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

As I walk out of the alley, I make sure to flip up the collar of my coat, masking my identity, keeping my anonymity , I don't need a name to the face. Keeping my head down, I make my way out of this side London. It's somewhere I'd rather not be seen around. As I walk down the street, the sky rumbles, sending gallons of water onto the people below it. Pedestrians curse and hold up purses, briefcases, and newspapers to shield themselves from the harmless droplets, running to shelter. I merely ignore it, and to the casual pedestrian, it's almost like a scene out of a movie. Various businessmen and women running and shielding themselves, while a single figure takes their time, seemingly untouched by the rain. This is only reinforced by the fact that I am currently walking on the Vauxhall Bridge. With the SIS building looming over, it's inevitable that I must check in with M sooner or later. I am unsure of whether or not she will approve of this sweep, I feel like something is lacking within me. I complete the task given to me, no questions asked. So why does something feel so wrong now? The MI6 headquarters loom closer with every step I take, and I find myself hesitating to finish crossing the bridge. I am tempted to start questioning my life, what went wrong, and what I can do to fix it. Yet nothing comes to mind, too many years of silence, of unfeeling, has left me as this empty shell of a person. Can you even define me as a person? A monster maybe, but a person? I do not think so. The sound of a car slowly driving by breaks my reprieve. I reach for my gun, left hand casually gripping the butt. Turning my head, I see it is a government car, but I cannot identify the driver nor its occupants. Alarms ring in my head, but I keep a straight face. Slowly it drives up, and I feel the urge to run, black townhouse cars with tinted windows are never a good sign. It's now right next me, and I'm just about to pull out my gun until a voice cuts me off.

"Get in."

The door opens.

Hello M, there are better ways to get my attention, especially with your most volatile agent.

Slowly I release the grip on the gun, before climbing in. Brushing the rain from my hair, I look at the passenger seat, waiting for her to speak.

" What was that tomfoolery out there? You know we can't afford mistakes, not in an op this big. Have you officially gone mad?"

I shake my head.

" Never mind that, but I will have you in for testing again. Here your next assignment."

She hands me a manila folder. I take it, open it, and taking in all necessary information.

"You will be meeting Bond at the Tower at 23:50. Don't get caught, don't get seen. Clear all floors, only using lethal force when necessary, see Q to get fitted up."

By this time, we have made it to the parking lot of the SIS building. As I reach for the door, M cuts me off once more.

"Stay safe S, she's a master thief who hasn't been caught for the past ten years. Err on the side of caution from now on."

I nod, before taking the umbrella from the driver. Opening the door, I open the umbrella step out, then proceed to make my way around the car. Opening up the door for M, I escort her into the building, alert yet relaxed, always on the ready for a potential threat. Once inside, I visibly relax, its good to be home. M gives a small snort at my reaction.

"No place like home Ma'am." My voice is small, hoarse from lack of use.

She nods, and we both get into the elevator.

"Q will have prepared you for this mission. Stealth is necessary, so no absurd flashbangs, are we clear?"

Flashbang? What in the world does that mean? But M's word is absolute, unless your name is James Bond.

"Crystal ma'am."

With that the elevator dings and M gets out. She looks behind her shoulder, and we make eye contact. I give a small nod, and she walks off. I will accomplish my mission, or die trying. The elevator doors close, and I continue downward. What gadgets has Q prepared for me this time? A new gun? Experimental drugs? Hopefully not the latter. Those are never fun. The elevator dings again, and I walk out, contemplating about the mission I have just been assigned to. As I push through the double doors that mark the entrance to Q's lab, I am greeted by the sight of a new Q, far younger than expected. He's currently observing some sort of engine, and I merely watch him, making observations. He's young, very young, and seems to have the classic nerd look, with the glasses. But I can't really say anything about youth either. I would continue to keep silent, but I need to arrive on the other side of the world in about 12 hours, and staring at him will not help. I give a small cough, and Q looks up from his work.

"Ah, Agent Ying, it's a pleasure to meet you." He sticks out his hand for the notion of shaking it. I don't accept, and calmly stare him down. He notices that I don't take it, and uses it to brush his hair back.

"Uhm, your equipment yes! Right this way." He's nervous, more likely about my reputation than anything else, I have this effect on everyone.

"Ah, here we are."

He hands me a large box. Cautiously opening it, I pull out a gun, a watch, a data pad, and a badge.

"Standard issue 226 Sig Sauer, coded to your palm prints. The watch contains a GPS unit and a small explosive. Data pad for further briefing, and the badge should only be used when in trouble with the other authorities. Oh, and before I forget, your eye's HUD, how is it holding up?"

Carefully holstering my gun, I put on the watch, before looking back at him. I point to the cable port at my temple before sitting in the stool next to me.

"Having issues again? Or something else?"

"Software update."

"Ah, sure thing, here we go." He pulls out a cable and plugs it in. Instantly, my left eye shuts down, replaced with the classic loading bar. In a few seconds it returns to normal, albeit with a few screen glitches.

"Let me recalibrate." A shock runs through, and my vision is back to tomorrow, with the left eye displaying an aiming reticle and other information.

"Better?"

I nod. The HUD has been bothersome for months, but I've never been in the area long enough to come in and get if fixed. Getting up, I brush off invisible dust, and looking at Q, I stick out my hand. He takes it and we shake, he's a bit confused, but I have my reasons. I respect him, he doesn't ask questions. The last person to ask was Bond, and even then he didn't escape unscathed. What happened is buried under layers of repressed memories and trauma, and I will not bring up, ever.

"Good, good, one more thing."

He hands over another case, which I take, suspicion arising.

"MI-6 standard issue sniper rifle. Accuracy International MW 355."

Opening the case I don't see the usual clip of bullets I'm given.

"Ah, yes. M did mention non-lethal methods to me."

I hold up the clip to his face. Really? Tranquilizer darts?

"M's idea I swear."

I give a non descript shrug, before closing the case. Taking it in hand, I nod to Q, before walking out the doors.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I realize that the original cartoons were set in the 90's, but it's almost sad thinking about Carmen Sandiego using one of those 90's cell phones while MI6 gets those fancy touchscreen computers. So I'm officially setting this story in modern times.

* * *

23:30, Taipei, Taiwan

Getting into position is harder than it looks. The movies always make it look so majestic, with the spies scaling the glass walls like nothing. In reality though, there's a lot of cursing, slipping, and near death experiences. Especially if you need to get on top of a building with no roof access. I'm positively sure I almost feel twice. Nothing like the feeling of falling to wake up your senses. I look up, seeing the edge of the roof. I can't help but give a sigh of relief. As I grab the edge, I slowly lift myself, enough to get a peek over. A grey clad henchmen steps up right in front of me, his back facing me.

"Bobby, do we really need to be here right now?"

Uh... What?

"Shut Mikey, you heard what the boss said. No one gets in. The boss said that she's upping her game tonight, what ever the hell that means."

Shit. That wasn't in the file. Carmen Sandiego, the world's greatest thief, literally the only person capable of stealing actual monuments. Not your sappy little royal jewels or what not, I mean like national monuments. Bond and I had the loveliest time chasing her down after she had stolen the London bridge. That woman, I really shouldn't be saying this, but that woman is amazing. All guts, and brains to back it up. But the guards mentioned no one getting to the rooftop. M made it very clear that Carmen was going for Taipei 101, and this building definitely not the 101. Peeking over the edge one more time, the other guard posted has turned away. Pulling myself up, I grab the guard in front of me, placing in a sleeper hold. A brief struggle and he slumps forward. Gently placing him down, I jump down, making my way to the other guard. Unfortunately the jumping movement made the case on my back move, causing the guard to go on alert.

"Whose there?"

Well this will be fun. As he makes his way towards me, I crouch low, and make my way through the shadows.

"Shit! Bobby! Hey man, come on wake up."

Oh, body count found. Lucky for the both of them, I'm on non-lethal mode. The guard gets up, flashlight in hand, shining it on everything.

"Looking for me?" I say, stepping out of the cover of darkness.

"YOU! I'm gonna hurt you so bad!"

Tch, that grammar. He runs toward me, arms swinging. I duck the first punch, redirect the second one, before jumping back.

"Oh, come on, you need to do better than that." Egging him on, I take on a relaxed stance, ready for whatever he throws. He comes in swinging again, throwing a straight punch. I catch it, letting the punch move my arm back. His elbow is open, and I punch upward. The sickening crack of the joint dislocated makes me smile. The guard pulls back, howling in pain.

"You bitch! My arm! Fuck you!" He stills has the ability to talk, impressive. I look at him with a disinterested face, before punching him in the solar plexus. He coughs winded, and slumps over, before I knock him out. Carrying him over to the over unconscious guard, I dig through his pockets, hoping to find a communicator of sorts. The sooner we get onto Carmen's plans the better. There's an ear piece, which I pull out and slip on, but that seems to be it. Standing up, I around to get my bearings. I climbed up from the west side, Taipei 101 is on the north, and the wind is blowing from the south. I make my way to the north facing edge, setting up the rifle. Lying down, I focus my right eye into the scope, while letting the left eye HUD tell me wind speed and bullet drop compensation. Since I'm not using the standard .338 Lapua Magnum, the bullet drop compensation is larger than normal. Tranq darts are exceedingly heavy, and are normally used pistols, or other close range firearms. It also explains why I'm only about 800 yards away. As I snap the magazine in place, the alarms go off near the top of Taipei 101. I smile, looks like Bond got something. The ear piece in the right ear goes off.

"She's headed to the top, and she got the chip. Cut her off, I think she's hit the 69th floor already."

Wait, chip? Exactly how much is M holding from me? But now is not the time. I shift positions, aiming towards the upper levels. Suddenly the ear piece in the left goes off. I wince at the unexpected noise.

"Mike, the boss is going to the top, then making her way to pick you guys up with the chopper, get ready."

Would you look at that. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Tapping the ear piece in the right, I open the channel connected to HQ.

"We heard."

Showoffs. And I worked so hard to get into position too.

" The mission's changed. Bond get moving towards the rendezvous point. Ying, incapacitate her. We need that chip!"

"Ma'am I can get the chip-"

"Get moving Bond, we don't need another Barcelona right now."

I almost snort, ah Barcelona, that was an interesting mission, and a story for another time. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of red on the roof. Focusing the scope on the item of question, I smile. It's her, Ms. Sandiego, in all her glory, , wearing that oversized red fedora and that oh so recognizable trenchcoat. Pulling the bolt to load the dart into the chamber, I take aim, taking deep breaths. The world slow downs, and I pull the trigger. Still looking through the scope, I see the dart fly through the air, towards its intended target before the unexpected happens. A gray clad henchmen steps in front on her, taking the dart. He drops like stone, the effects of the tranquilizer immediate. With a gasp she turns towards me, and gives a small smile, before cheekily waving a good-bye.

"Target missed." Mission failed. And a first to my perfect record. I can hear M cursing in the background. I sit up, pulling the bolt again. The door to the roof opens with a bang, and instantly I have the rifle pointed at the intruder. It's Bond, and I slowly lower it down. Cocking my head questioningly I look at him. This is not the rendezvous point I know that for sure.

"I thought she was coming here." Bluntly stated.

"I missed." Obvious as that seems, it's not something I do normally. Or at all. I haven't missed a target in 6 years.

"You missed." Bond states, obviously not believing that statement.

"Technically. But she's gone." My voice wavers, I'm not used to using it this much. Or at all really. The com goes off again, but this time in both ears. I wince once more, before pulling the one I stole out.

"Both of you are to be back here ASAP." The line goes dead.

I look at Bond, and he shrugs before opening the door for roof access.

"Ladies first."


	5. Chapter 5

Over Russia ~ 21:00

Flying has always been dangerous. It's not like I have a fear of flying, it's more of I have a fear of flying with James Bond. But it's not what you think. I have a fear for my wallet when I fly with Bond. That man can burn a hole through the thickest wallet ever. Bond as always, enjoys flying with style, which is why we're always first class no matter what. And the on board drinks, and the flight attendants, and the snacks. It's literally one big money burning fiasco. Which is why I hate flying, and why I'm currently sitting at the bar eyeing the probably 7th cocktail Bond has had on this flight. We're not even halfway there.

"Can I offer you anything miss?"

As I sit down at the bar, I look over at Bond, before shaking my head.

"What can I do for you Ying?"

Bond practically spits out my name. I look at him, eyebrow quirked.

"Don't give me that look. I know what you're thinking."

I crack a smile, before looking back at the bartender.

"I'll take what he's having. Which is...?"

"3 parts gin, 1 part Russian vodka, 1 part Lillet Blanc, and garnished with lemon peel."

Interesting. I watch as he mixes my drink, and for once, I feel nervous. As I play with the napkin in front of me, I let my mind wander to the thoughts the have been troubling me all during the flight. What does M want from us, that requires such sudden return? And what of me? Am I losing my touch, my 'killing' edge? A weight on my shoulder snaps me out, and instantly I have the gun from my waistband out and pointed. Bond looks at me with amusement, before raising both hands in the air. My glare softens, before I holster the gun.

"You were making confetti. What have you been thinking about?"

I glare at him as he takes a seat right next to me. The drink sits untouched in front of me, as I've suddenly lost interest. Bond looks at me, smirk on his face.

"It couldn't be that our best agent is nervous now? You know, people do make mistakes."

I snort. _I_ don't make mistakes, nor do I miss. Bond simply watches, before reaching out a hand towards my face. I slap it away, glaring at him once more. We've been partners for years now, he should know better by now.

"They did a good job on the eye you know."

I roll my eyes, but can't stop the small smile that appears on my face. He has that annoying way of making everything better and worse at the same time. I shake my head, before taking the drink. Looking at it, I take a cautious sniff, before looking at him. I quirk an eyebrow at him, what is this drink even?

"I call it the Vesper." He's looking at the bar shelves now, but not actually looking. He has that forlorn look now, and I remember now. Operation Casino Royale, the first and last time Bond ever fell in love. Vesper Llynd, a deceptive woman, and someone I had never met. I'm actually happy she drowned in Venice, or else Bond would have never forgiven me for putting a bullet in her head. I look at Bond, and he's still looking at the liquor on the shelves, lost in his memories. I reach over and punch him in the shoulder. He quickly looks over at me. I raise my glass at him, giving a mock toast, before saying, "To old memories." He laughs before taking his and clinking it with mine.

"Talkative today aren't you?" He asks with a faint smile.

My smile quickly falls, before I down the drink in one go. It burns on it's way down, bringing back memories that I had thought I had buried. I regard the rim of the cocktail glass, before looking back at him. I know my eyes reflect that emptiness one has when they've lost something important to them. I sigh, putting the glass down, and stand up. I was hoping that the alcohol would help with the sleeping, but these memories won't but me back to sleep. Instead, I'll probably end up doing what I've always done for the past 6 years, sitting by the window, watching the clouds underneath past by. I'll come back to headquarters, M will probably comment on how horrible I look, and how it correlated to the mission. Then I'll go back to my flat, and suffer another sleepless night. I make my way back, but not before looking back at the bar, where Bond is nursing a whiskey this time. I contemplate paying his bill as a sign of thanks, but decide not to. Too much of me has taken a hit today, let alone do I want to see my hard earned wages wasted on alcohol of all things. As I sit back down, I look out the window, admiring the black right outside. A flight attendant walks by, offering hot towels in preparation for the upcoming meal. I decline, I'm not really in the mood for anything but self-contemplation. Instead, I recline back into the seat, pull out my ipod, and listen to classical music. Surprising isn't it? That a trained killer enjoys classical music, or is it cliché? In anyway, this ipod is the only thing I can call my own. And I cherish it, in fact, it's the first thing I bought with my paycheck. Bond still hasn't let me off on that. He stated that if I had to choose between replacing a gun or my ipod, it would be the gun. As I pull up the in-flight entertainment to check how far we are from London, Bond staggers up, probably having downed at least 10 drinks from the looks of it. I look at him, before turning back to the screen. It states that we have at least 6 hours before we're anywhere near the U.K., if only teleportation had been invented by now. Bond climbs into the seat next to mine, loosening up his tie, and getting himself comfortable. I turn back to him, unamused. He looks at me, before closing his eyes.

"Wake me up when we hit the tarmac." He says, eye closed.

Cheeky bastard.

* * *

**A/N: Can I get review? Anything? Maybe not. Ok, well I'll continue anyway, it's a nice distraction from finals.**


	6. Chapter 6

85 Albert Embankment, Lambeth, London 23:00

* * *

I have always hated time zone conversions. Always, the confusion that you have when its evening in one area, and morning in another, I hate it. You would think that with over 10 years of flying between countries I would be use to this, but unfortunately that's never happened.

By the time the plane had it the tarmac, I was more than ready to throw myself off the plane. Lucky me, Bond woke up 3 hours before we landed, and is looking in a much more pristine condition than I am currently. MI6 was nice enough to loan us chaffeur despite it being such an ungodly hour to head back to headquarters. As we pull up to the entrance C is already waiting for us.

"She said that you better be here at 8 sharp, we just made a joint case together. Dismissed."

I silently stare at him, blank look on my face. Did I just hear him right? I flew back across the fucking Eurasian continent to hear M's lackey to tell me that I need to be here by 8?

"Your mouth's open." Bond whispers to me.

Fuck that, I'm pissed now. As C walks back into the building, I give him the bird before I start to walk back home.

"Need a ride?" Bond asks with a small smile.

Fuck you as well. Cheeky bastard, I merely glare at him, before flipping up the collar of my coat. He laughs, before walking inside, no doubt to give M equal if not more shit than he gives me.

* * *

My flat is located on the other side of Vauxhall bridge, so give or take about 10 blocks max from headquarters. It's also the only one I even consider home, making the closet agent in hq vicinity. It's rather unnatural for agents or even staff to live so close to headquarters, but seeing as that I only use this maybe twice out the entire year, that doesn't really matter. By the time I even reach it, I really just want to fall into bed, and sleep until daybreak. As soon as I have the door, it's quickly shut, and I unceremoniously flop onto the bed. My gun digs uncomfortably into my hip, so I roll over, and get up with a groan. Tossing the gun onto the desk in front of my bed, I'm changing into my sleepwear, before heading to the bathroom to complete my routine. Slipping underneath the covers, sleep takes me quicker than expected.

* * *

"Well well well, what do we have here? A spy? Or something else hmm? Perhaps an assassin? Or are you a double agent?"

He grasps my jaw, making me look at him, I simply glare, words will only be wasted on a twisted man like him. He laughs at me, before pulling out a large knife, playing with it, twirling it around.

"Keeping silent eh? Doesn't matter, you'll be talking soon enough."

With that he slowly traces patterns on my shoulder, light enough to feel the sharpness of the blade, but not hard enough to draw blood. I shiver at the feel of the cold steel on my bare skin. Instinctively I twist away from the blade.

"Ah ah, tell me, what are you here for?"

I keep the glare I had before, still silent. Rule 1: Never jeopardize the mission no matter what. He backhands me.

"Bitch, ANSWER ME!"

I'm slightly shocked by the suddenness of the action, and a small gasp escapes my lips before I can recover my glare.

"Heh, you've got fire don't you? Don't worry, we'll fix that real quite."

He motions to the two men standing in the corner, and they stand in front of me. If their about to do what I think they are, I would gladly take the water boarding again. The man on the left cracks his knuckles, while the other pulls out a whip. Oh this does not look fun. I look at them both before giving them a smirk.

Pointing my chin to the one on the left I smile and say, " I think I'll call you gorilla", and then motioning to the other, "and you-" I get caught off by punch to the face. The crack of the whip is heard right next to my right ear, I flinch. My right ear is officially numb, nor can I really hear anything from it. They alternate beating and whipping me, until the man comes back, turning on all the lights in the room. I can't hear, or feel my face right now. I'm also can't see out of my right eye, I'm hundred percent sure that my nose is broken, and if I don't die from this, I'm probably dying from internal bleeding. Gorilla definitely did a good job with his poundings. If I could hold my stomach to stop the pain I would, but I've been tied to this chair for god's know how long. The man walks up to me, lifting my chin up. I muster up what's left of a glare.

"Still have some fight left huh? Strong one we've got."

He gives me a sinister smile, before motioning to one of the corners. The roar of a furnace catches my attention. My eyes widen, anything but this. Gorilla and co. are back, pushing me towards it. I'm struggling against my bonds.

"NO, no, please anything but this, PLEASE!"

"Gag her."

A large piece of cloth gets forced into my mouth. As I struggle, the flames of the furnace in front of me. The man comes back into view, holding a carrying case. He opens it up, lining up knifes of various sizes, but none shorter than 4 inches. Holding one up to me, he traces a line from my temple down. I can feel something warm trickle down my cheek. It's not sweat.

"You're probably the first person to make it this far without going unconscious. But we can change that."

He sticks the knife into the furnace, pulling it out after several tense moments. It's glowing red hot, and I really want that nowhere near me.

"If you're not going to tell me what you are, then you can at least tell me who you work for!"

As he says this, he suddenly plunges it into my leg. I scream through the gag.

"WHO DO YOU WORK FOR!"

With each word another knife gets stabbed into my leg. The smell of roasted meat permeates the air. The guards remove the gag.

"So, have something to say?"

I'm panting, the pain is absolutely unbearable. But as he lifts my head, I give an attempt of a smirk.

"You'll have to try harder than that." I take a shaky breathe, hoping that he doesn't catch it. He's facing the furnace, twirling a rather large bowie knife. He occasionally looks back at me, before he turns back at me. He grasps one of the knives in my leg. I hiss in pain, and he returns with a sick smile. He tugs at it, and I almost black out. Hot metal sticks to flesh, so it's very safe to assume that the knifes are pretty much embedded in my leg. He adjusts his grip and yanks. I thought I would have passed out after that, but the sight of a large chunk of my flesh stuck to the knife and the tinges of black in my vision, tell me I'm still awake. And screaming. He looks at before once again asking the same question.

"Who do you work for?"

MI6 agents do not jeopardize the mission, they do not give out information. They accept death. Except most MI6 agents haven't been in my position. I didn't mean to let it slip but it does.

"MI6." It comes out in a barely heard whisper at first. Until he makes the movement to grab another knife.

"MI6! PLEASE!"

"See? That wasn't so bad now was it? But unluckily for you, you said it too late. So here's your consolation prize."

He motions for the guards, they place a stiletto knife and what looks like poker into the furnace. He holds my head up, and the only eye I can see out of focuses on him. He laughs, a horrible laugh that gives you the feeling that the worse is yet to come. His gloved hand traces my eye, before forcing it open. Realizing what's about to happen, I try to struggle, to get avoid the inevitable, but his other hand has my head held fast. Letting go, he places his hand out, and the guard gives him the glowing hot knife. Making sure that I'm watching he twirls it once before holding it above my eye.

"You have lovely eyes by the way."

He plunges down, the pain doesn't register, but the sound of sizzling does. The tattoo on his forearm flashes in the light. He pulls out an angle , and I know my eye is on the end of the knife, optic nerve still connected. There's a sickening squelch, and it goes dark. There's still no pain, until I feel heat here my now empty socket. If I wasn't screaming before, now I am. The heat registers first, then the pain, and finally I black out.

* * *

I fly forwards from the bed with a yell, covered in a cold sweat. Frantically looking around, I remember that I'm safe in bed, that it was just a dream. Covering my face with my hands, I sit there, trying to remove the remnants of the nightmare. But every time I close my eyes, the tattoo is still there, the glowing of the knife, all waiting to strike back. I look over at the clock, 5 AM. Wonderful. I get up, since I know I won't be falling asleep again. As I look out the window, I let the cool pane of window press against my forehead. My left eye twitches painfully, and I reach up to touch it, before stopping myself. I pad out to the living room, before sinking into the couch. M will not approve of my appearance tomorrow. Not at all.

* * *

**A/N: Backstory flashback! Dun dun dun. Anyway, am I the only one who finding the fact that I updated everyday so far? It's not going to last though. This might be the last chapter for awhile. :(**


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